Secrets
by Taure
Summary: One Shot. Harry Potter, Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, hates secrets. Dark story, not for children. Post-DH, adult Harry.


A.N. Little one-shot to celebrate a posting milestone at DarkLordPotter. Dark in tone. In Essence Divided chapter 4 will be coming out in the next 3 days. I recommend reading in 1/2 or 3/4.

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**Secrets**

_ By Taure_

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Secrets. The world revolves around them.

In my experience, everyone has one. They keep them from others, from themselves, from the world. But secrets don't stay secret for long.

To acquire them is the sweetest song, a counterpoint of guilt and trust. Privileged are those who keep them. For the world is divided into two kinds of people: those who give secrets, and those who keep them.

My whole life has been shaped by secrets. My destiny was decided by them. That fateful choice: whom to trust? The wrong choice was made, my path was set. A boy became a man; a Dark Lord fell.

Dumbledore - now _there_ was a master of secrets. An artist. How carefully he treated them, like delicate glass birds; he cradled them in his cupped hands and then, when he judged the time right, he would let them fly like assassins, more deadly than any wand.

In my youth, I was a giver of secrets. Dumbledore held them for me, guarding them jealously, dangling before me like carrots of diamond. No - more precious than that. Secrets are power. I understand that, now. With secrets Dumbledore guided me. What he _held_ from me pulled my strings as much as what he told me.

With secrets Dumbledore wielded me like a poison dagger, right into the heart of his foe.

Now? Now _I_ am the keeper of secrets.

Neville knocked at my door.

"You asked to see me, Director?" he said, not fully entering.

My office was plain. Immaculate. Empty.

Not for love of order. No - you could tell too much about a person just by looking at their office. But no one would learn anything of me. The wooden floor was exposed. My desk was completely uncluttered, and without decoration. No pictures on the walls, no sentimentality displayed for the world to see.

"Ah, Auror Longbottom. You have her?"

"Yes, sir. In a holding cell."

"Good. Take me to her."

The Auror Office wasn't far from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. We passed through the halls easily, paper pushers parting before us. The great Harry Potter, ex-Auror, Director of the DMLE, and his trusted lieutenant, Chief Auror Longbottom.

I nodded a greeting to a select few. The loyal. The useful. Percy Weasley - Director of the Department of International Magical Cooperation. Zacharias Smith - Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. Cormac McClaggen, called to the Bar. All of them gave secrets, and I kept them.

Percy: his son's death wasn't quite as accidental as reported. I protected poor Penelope. As for Smith: he may have avoided a few taxes on controlled substances imports. I was the understanding ear of mercy. McClaggen... while wives may grow old, 7th years are always 17. The girl understood the need to stay quiet.

Their deference was gratifying. At one time I had walked these halls as an ignorant child, manipulated and used for political ends. Dumbledore, Fudge, Shacklebolt.

But I learnt quickly. Now I am their master: a boy no longer.

The Ministry of Magic was where ideals came to die. It had broken Hermione, now teaching my children Transfiguration. But me? I was unbreakable.

Yet not unbendable. I changed.

Sometimes I pictured the roads not taken. What if I hadn't become an Auror after the Dark Lord?

I still remember the glory of that day. Voldemort's body wasn't yet cold when we stormed the Ministry in a blaze of fire and water. I was unstoppable, riding on the tail of the Dark Lord's death. My wand sang. Legends were born.

And yet... we stopped short of the goal. We took the Ministry, but we left it intact. Was that a mistake? We avoided anarchy, but at what cost? Nothing changed. The rich, the Pure and the powerful ruled as ever.

What if we had razed the Ministry and started anew? What if I chose Hogwarts instead, or Quidditch? Would my innocence have survived the world?

Or was this just what it meant to be an adult?

"Through here, Director," Neville said, leading me through the portrait of Gladys Goblin-Bane. Of course I knew where the holding cells were already. The hidden entrance led to a long stone corridor, lit with blue torches. The plain cells were on the left. This wasn't Azkaban: they were quite humane. Clean.

"Which one?" I asked, my meaning clear. I would be seeing the prisoner alone.

Neville understood.

"Number six," he said, before turning to guard the entrance. I saw his wand twitch. A silencing spell. I smiled. Neville was reliably thorough.

I found Astoria Malfoy sitting in the centre of her cell. Her captivity had not dented her natural pride. She sat tall, imperious. And as beautiful as ever - a delicate beauty, like china. For a moment we just stood there, each observing the other. Her chin tilted upwards - an unconscious sign of defiance.

Good. This would be easy.

Here's a secret: defiance is a mistake. In interrogation, all emotion is a way in.

I began by the book.

"Madam Malfoy, you have been arrested on suspicion of conspiracy against the Ministry of Magic. Do you understand the weight of the charges against you?"

"Potter!" she said, her lip curling. "I should've known you had a hand in this. Only you'd be so foolhardy. You will end this farce at once."

Ah. So she thought she had a position of strength. Interesting. I changed direction. Time to go for anger.

"You remember your father-in-law, don't you? Poor Lucius... he spent so much gold trying to keep his head, and all for nothing." I paused, allowing my implication to sink in. "I assure you, Madam Malfoy, that the penalty for conspiracy remains unchanged. Gold will not save you."

If she was unsettled, she didn't show it. I wanted to chuckle. She was so sure of her security.

Foolish girl.

"You can't touch me, Potter, and you know it," she said, with some heat in her voice. "The Wizengamot will find me innocent. We both know it. You have nothing."

I smiled, and flicked my wand. The spells on the cell fell. Her eyes widened.

"Astoria, Astoria... you have no idea. This is _my_ domain."

I struck quickly. My wand flashed; Astoria was hoisted violently into the air, hands bound behind her back. I took a moment to admire her arched figure. The spell caused no long-term damage, but she didn't know that. Right now she would be feeling a phantom noose around her neck.

"Now," I said, looking into her fearful eyes, "you will tell me everything."

I entered her mind with ease. I doubt she even knew the word 'Occlumency', never mind its use. And even if she had, she couldn't have resisted me. The events surrounding Voldemort's fall had made much clear to me that was once obscure. Wandlore. Occlumency. Legilimency.

Her mind fought back instinctively, of course. But untrained as she was, it did more harm than good. Her desperate attempts at concealment only served to highlight that which she wanted hidden.

"_I understand your concerns," said Minister Zabini. He was his mother's son: cunning as a fox, with a startling resilience against age. "But Potter will be tougher than Weasley to take down. He's entrenched - the Aurors think him a god, and he has a finger in every pie. Even the Department of Mysteries, from what I hear. And he's still popular from the Dark Lord. Honestly? It'd be political suicide to go after him."_

"_We thought you'd say that," said Draco. "We have a plan. Here."_

_He passed Zabini a thick dossier. They sat in silence as he read it._

"_Yes... yes, this could work," Zabini muttered, leafing through the pages. "The DMLE has been too powerful for too long... break up the department, divide the responsibility. Time to move past the war and embrace the security that peacetime brings. Yes, this is good. If Potter resists, he'll look like a warmonger. A relic of the past."_

"_We have to be careful," added Draco. "Hold it until we know we have the votes. If Potter learns of it before we're ready, he might do something... drastic."_

"_We need a distraction," said Zabini. "Something to cover our intent. Something to keep him busy."_

_Astoria smiled. "I have just the thing."_

I pulled out of Astoria's mind.

"My, my," I said, mocking. Like I was telling off a little girl. "The Minister _has_ been a naughty boy, hasn't he?"

I suppressed the inevitable anger. There would be time for rage later. A time for plots and declarations of revenge. But one thing was clear: Zabini was going down. Earlier than I had planned, but I could take him.

"When's the first reading planned?" I asked, returning the girl to her seat. I needed to know how much time I had.

Astoria looked down.

"TELL ME!" I shouted, and she jumped.

Ah. There it was. Finally, she had arrived.

Fear.

"Next Wednesday," she whispered, her hands shaking. _So little time?_ I had a lot of work to do, it seemed.

I turned to leave, finished with her. She breathed an almost inaudible sigh of relief.

_There was more_.

I spun on the spot, my wand in her face.

"_Legilimens!"_

"_He's just... so different," said Ginny, sipping from a fine teacup. She was in the tea room at Malfoy Manor. "The Ministry's changed him. Oh, he still cares for the children, in his own way... but he's cold. Distant. I'm worried, Astoria. He's not right. He's changed."_

"_No wonder, with the horrors of his youth," said Astoria, the perfect image of the concerned friend. "The kind of stress that must put on the mind... his defeat of the Dark Lord... he never saw a Healer, afterwards, did he?"_

_Ginny's eyes narrowed._

"_What're you saying?" There was a dangerous edge to her voice._

"_Only that... well. Our husbands have never got on well. If I suggested it, everyone would dismiss it as political. But you? His own wife? He needs help, Ginny. Maybe you're the only one who can make sure he gets it."_

I ended the spell, my mind frozen.

Ginny had been keeping secrets.

"_Obliviate!_" Astoria would take this conversation to the grave.

A flick of my wand restored the security spells. I left her. She would be released later that day, but no matter - I had what I needed.

Neville moved to speak, but I held up a hand.

"Not here," I said, and he nodded.

We returned to my office, and I closed the door, before moving over to my desk. I pulled open a drawer and removed a crystal paperweight.

"I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good," I whispered into it, and layers of privacy spells activated. We wouldn't be overheard.

"You had success with the Malfoy woman, I take it," Neville said, taking a seat himself.

"Indeed. Do you still manage the Protection Schedules personally?"

Neville cocked his head, curious. He'd work it out soon enough.

"Yeah. Why?"

"I want Aurors Bones, Woodbridge and Kale assigned to the Minister tomorrow."

All of them highly competent. All of them unflinchingly loyal.

"Harry?" Neville said, and I could sense his hesitance. He would follow me wherever I led - but not without reluctance. He wanted to hear me say it.

"Zabini must be surrounded by our people before I act. A failed attempt on the Minister's life would be disastrous."

Neville swallowed, but nodded.

"It'll be done," he said.

What did I do to inspire such loyalty? I had never been able to figure it out. But whatever it was, it had never left me.

"I'll need you ready to declare martial law, after I dismiss the Wizengmot," I added. "We must be decisive, or resistance will form. As soon as the Minister's dead, dispatch a team to Hogwarts."

_That_ made him really uncomfortable.

"Oh, don't worry - not to harm anyone," I said. Hopefully McGonagall wouldn't make a liar of me. "I know better than to meddle with the internal affairs of that place! But it'll send a message. Make sure Scorpius doesn't go anywhere. We need Malfoy under control."

"This is it, then?" he asked. We had never spoken explicitly of plans. But it had been clear for some time where we were all heading.

"It's time to finish what we started, Neville," I said, standing up. "It's time to do what we should have done twenty years ago. The Ministry should never have survived Voldemort's fall. We'll tear it down, and build it up again. A new Ministry. A better Ministry."

With me at its head.

Neville left five minutes later, off to prepare. I had another matter to deal with.

Ginny had been keeping secrets.

It was intolerable. My own wife, working with my enemies. Something would have to be done.

I left the Ministry in a hurry, intending to go home immediately. To confront her. But as soon as I was outside, the desire left me. I didn't want to return to Ginny. Not yet.

I wandered through Muggle London for hours, not really looking where I was going. Not even thinking. I was just a pair of legs, walking endlessly.

Darkness fell. I found myself outside a Muggle bar. Modern, flashy, with those new touchscreen things in the tables to order with. I was attracting strange looks, dressed as I was, but it would take more than a set of robes to make a Muggle think magic existed.

I entered, and searched for a seat. The music was loud - too loud, really, and not at all what I was used to, all electronic beeps and deep bass, but it didn't matter. I hadn't come for music.

A woman was sitting at a table with a few friends. She was young, barely twenty, and quite pretty. She had red hair, and at some time she'd broken her nose. Just like -

I walked over. _Confundo_, I thought. My wand was in my sleeve, but I was beyond foolish waving now.

"James!" she greeted me, thinking me her boyfriend.

"Alice, who's this?" asked one of her friends. A blonde, looking at my robes like I was a freak. She reminded me of the Dursleys. I instantly disliked her.

"Come with me," I said to Alice, and she leapt up. Perhaps I'd overdone the Confundus.

"Alice, where are you going?" said the blonde, "you've only had one drink!"

She ignored her friend, and so did I. We left the bar to the sound of her frantic screeching, but another Confundus had her quiet down. Best to avoid unwanted attention.

We found a hotel. A third Confundus got us a room.

"Take off your clothes and get on the bed," I said, and her eyes lit up with excitement.

"Oh James, this is so _dirty_," she said.

"Just do it."

I removed my robes and looked at her, waiting on the bed for me. She had small, perky breasts and a skinny figure. She was average, really, but she possessed the vitality of youth.

I didn't kiss her. Not on the mouth, at least. A token effort of foreplay and I was inside her.

"Oh, James," she cooed, breathing heavily. The Confundus could have that effect, I had heard. I wrapped a hand around her neck and squeezed. Not hard enough to be dangerous, but enough to show I wasn't playing games.

"Tell me a secret," I said, pushing into her again. "Tell me _all_ your secrets."

And, Confunded as she was, she did. Oh, she sang me a song. She told me of her religious guilt over fucking another student. She told me how she was worried she was going to fail anatomy. She told me of her crush on her best friend's boyfriend, and her hate for a girl named Katie.

After we were finished, I Oblivated her. Standard procedure for a Muggle who had witnessed magic. I left her sleeping in the hotel room and made sure she would receive a complimentary breakfast.

And then I apparated home.

It was almost midnight, and the house was dark. The children were still at Hogwarts, so it was just me and Ginny. I found her in the bedroom, already asleep. I often worked late. It wasn't unusual.

"Ginny," I said, and she stirred, sitting up in bed.

"What is it?" she said, flicking the lights on with her wand. "What's wrong?"

I sat down next to her on the bed.

"You've been keeping secrets," I said.

"Oh," she said, and she began to cry. Not the wailing of teenage girls. These were the quiet tears of a weary woman. She took my hand in her own and squeezed it, before looking into my eyes. "Do you forgive me?"

"I do," I said, and it was true.

Forgiveness was easy to give, and I was generous with it. I would hold no hardness in my heart towards her. For the rest of time, I would remember her fondly.

She breathed a sigh of relief, but continued crying. I pulled her close to me, and kissed her eyelids gently.

"_Mordormo_," I whispered.

"Oh," said Ginny, in surprise. She looked up at me, her eyes still wet, her cheeks red. There was no anger there. Just sadness, and understanding.

I stayed with her as the curse took effect. With one arm I held her close, with the other I gripped her hand. Slowly, inevitably, her eyelids began to droop. The Curse of Eternal Sleep was a gentle killer. A death for lovers. So long as you remain awake, you live.

Ginny didn't struggle. She let sleep take her, all the time looking into my eyes.

We exchanged no words. We just held each other.

And then Ginny died.

I laid her back on the bed. She looked so peaceful. It was a pity I would have to ruin it.

Such a terrible crime, Minister Zabini. Murdering Harry Potter's wife.

No one would be able to blame me, when I took his life.

It was perfect.


End file.
